


the frost killing hour

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Tumblr Prompt, Wishful Thinking, fill in the blank, season 6 episode 13, the same boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’ve got a Carol and a Maggie. I’m thinking that’s something you want to chat about.”<br/>Everything after that was white noise once her name came through the walkie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the frost killing hour

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I was thinking, could you write a one shot of Daryl’s perspective from the kidnapping? from @na-bruma-leve. Usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing.

 

_Do you remember the way that you touched me before_  
_All the trembling sweetness I loved and adored ~[My Skin](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DE1pOAhGUJYk&t=NzQ3ZmFkNDkzOGEyMzlkNTkxMDNhNjRmNmU0Y2JhOTRkYzhlZDQyOSxBT09qS05tZQ%3D%3D), Natalie Merchant_

“We’ve got a Carol and a Maggie. I’m thinking that’s something you want to chat about.”

Everything after that was white noise once her name came through the walkie. Daryl leveled his gun and then bent, along with Glenn to yank the fucker to his feet, one hand tangled in his collar while the other pressed the barrel to the back of his head. He saw Glenn out of the corner of his eye doing the same. 

“We’ll trade,” Rick offered as he scanned the distant treeline. He paused as the woman acknowledge the offer then continued, “First I want to talk to Maggie and Carol, make sure they’re alright.”

There was a hiss of static and then he heard her…”Rick, it’s Carol.I’m…I’m fine, but…”   Then Maggie came through saying that they were okay. His hands shook as he pressed the gun harder against the prick’s neck, anger seething in the pit of his stomach. Why had they left the two women out there alone and how in the fuck were they gonna get them back if the fuckers didn’t cop to a trade? He traded a look with Glenn, seeing the same thoughts swirling through the other man’s eyes. 

“Look, I know you’re talking it over. It’s a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away. Do we have a deal?”

The seconds crawled by with only the hiss of the radio to fill them up and then, “I’ll get back to you.” The walkie cut off after that. 

* * *

They hurried to where they’d left Maggie and Carol before the attack. He never took his eyes off the ground as he slowed and bent to study the prints left in the dirt. A scuff here; a broken branch there. Three, maybe four. A bright spray of crimson dotting the dead leaves. Daryl had to bite back the urge to vomit, bile burning hot at the back of his throat. Somebody had been hit and badly. Wood gleamed white at the place where the limb had been twisted in two and there was a sliver of rope lying close by. Bad enough to need a tourniquet then. Son of a bitch. He looked over his shoulder, murder in his eyes, as he stared at their captive. 

“Can you tell which way they went?” Rick questioned. “How many in the group?”

Daryl shared another look with Glenn before answering, “Three or four. Went that way. One hurt bad but I can’t tell who. You got anything to add, asshole? Know where they’re headed?”  Rage bubbled just under the surface. He took a step toward the man, aiming to see if a well aimed punch would jar his memory, but Glenn headed him off. 

“You got cars nearby, some sort of bolt hole in case things go south. We know that already. How far and will there be others there? How many?” 

Stepping closer, Daryl rasped, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, man. It’s up to you.” 

“East,” the bastard offered up a thin smile. “They’ll head east. Probably try to hook up with a few more of our people if they’re in range.”

“East to what?” Rick fingered his gun as he studied the man. “Another base? A town?” His mouth tightened when the prisoner clammed up, still wearing that ghost of a smile. “We’ll find them.” He looked from Daryl to Glenn, nodding his head for emphasis. “They’re gonna be alright.They’re strong. Maggie and Carol are survivors.” 

Neither acknowledged him so Rick turned to Michonne. “Take Aaron, Abraham, and the others back to the cars. Head east at the next intersection. There’s a bridge out that way where we’ll meet up. We’re gonna see if we can pick up their trail. If we hurry,we might be able to take them.”  She cupped his cheek, brown eyes full of worry, before gathering up the others and heading out. 

Daryl made a quick circuit of the clearing to get his bearings and then gestured for them to follow. He leveled a finger under their prisoner’s nose and muttered, “Whatever they do to her, I’m gonna do double to you. Best you hope we work this out.” Glenn stepped up until they stood shoulder to shoulder, his eyes cold and steady, and nodded his agreement. 

“We’re going to get them back,” Rick interrupted. “Let’s go.” 

“Double,” Daryl repeated. “You mark my words.” 

* * *

The prints were unsteady, like the person couldn’t see where they were going. A scuff where the toe dug deep into the soil and then a graze when the path shifted. Bent branches and tattered leaves marked the way as clear as road signs. When the trees started to thin, he caught a glimpse of the road and the bridge where they were supposed to meet Michonne. The mud bore the fresh imprint of tracks sunk deep…wide bodied and heavy…a van or a truck. One tendril of mud fanned out to a ribbon, showing that they’d crossed the bridge. They settled in to wait, hoping the rest of their group would be there soon. 

Before long, the convoy rolled up and stopped just short of the bridge. They stepped out slowly and made their way to the cars, Rick guiding the prisoner while Glenn and Daryl flanked them, guns held at the ready. 

“Where are we headed?” Rosita asked. “Does he know?”

He was still wearing that barely there smirk but readily answered the question. “There’s a slaughterhouse just up the road, no more than thirty minutes. We cleared it so that we would have somewhere to go if the base got overrun.”

“More people? Weapons? Walls?”

“Man, you can’t think I’m gonna tell you that shit. You go in there and your people are gonna die slow before you get within a mile. She said she’d call if she’s willing to make the trade. You willing to risk your women on the off chance you can take them by surprise? Not smart, asshole. Not smart at all.” 

Rick tilted his head, icy blue eyes filled with a cold anger. “You’d better hope that you’re worth more to them than that.” The man’s face grew pale as he met that glacial stare. “They’ll make the trade if they know what’s good for them. So if I were you, I’d be trying to help convince them.” 

Pulling a bundle of maps out of his pack, Aaron quickly found the one he needed and spread it out on the hood. “There,” he pointed to a crossroads. “We can get most of the way there by car, park a few miles out and go in on foot.” 

“I’ll check in when we get closer, try to set up a meeting place to make the trade,” Rick decided. “We’ll set up outside the door and take them as they come out. Make every shot count. We can’t let this end badly.” 

* * *

In the end, five of them went in, not counting their prisoner. The others stayed back to watch for strays and to come running if needed. Daryl took point with Glenn and Rick leading Primo just after. Father Gabriel and Rosita brought up the rear, their heads in constant motion as they watched for any signs of ambush. 

The building was old and falling down, thick smoke billowing as flames licked the roof. The pungent tang of gasoline underscored the acrid scent of smoke. Daryl put a hand on the door; counted three, two, one on his fingers and then slid it back. Glenn’s rifle was held at the ready as he darted through only to be brought up short at the sight of Maggie standing there with a pistol leveled. 

“Maggie,” he gasped before stumbling toward with arms outstretched. 

Daryl’s heart was in his throat as he scanned the hallway, allowing Rosita and Gabriel to enter first, rifles raised and fingers on the trigger. He saw her then, a gag hanging loose around her neck and her blue eyes wide and staring. He was on her before he knew it, one hand on her shoulder, leaning in close so that he could see her eyes. “You okay?” She let him back her up until she nudged the wall. “We got your trail.” She finally nodded, allowing him to take his first deep breath in what seemed like hours. “You start a fire?” 

“Yeah.” Her voice was ragged at the edges, weary and pain filled. Her gaze fell to the floor, skittered away when he ducked his head, trying to gauge her words. She was anything but okay and he could fucking see it. He needed for her to be truthful, to let him in, let him help her. 

He brought his hand back up and carefully lifted her chin until their eyes caught. “Hey? You good?” Finally, her stoic expression cracked, her eyes filling up to overflowing as she slowly shook her head.

“No,” she mumbled.

Relief roared through him like wildfire even as he broke a little inside at the look on her face. This time she didn’t look away. “Well, come here,” he said as he drew her in and held her close, fingers tangled in the matted hair at her crown. He wanted to howl as he dropped his head to her shoulder, shaking with a thousand emotions he couldn’t begin to sort through. 

Rick led their prisoner in, nodding his head when Maggie confirmed that everyone in the group who’d taken them was dead. A few questions and a stupid boast later, the fucker lay dead at their feet, his blood making a wide red circle on the concrete. 

Carol stared at the spectacle in silence, twisting a string of beads between her fingers, cutting deep until droplets spattered like rain. He urged her back into the circle of his arms, easing the rosary from her tight grasp and slipping it in his pocket, before wrapping her wounds with his ever present red rag. “We’ll be alright,” he murmured quietly so only she’d hear. “I'm here now and we’re going home.”  


End file.
